Still
by Faba
Summary: The world around me moves, but I stand still.
1. Halcyon

**A/N: Much thanks to Lady Tiggular for support. **

**Wicked is disclaimed. The poem is mine. **

**I hope you enjoy the story. It's a lot deeper than it seems. You'll see when it gets moving. **

* * *

**Blackened leaves fall about,**

**Brushing my roughened face.**

**I know not who stands beside me now. **

**I keep myself erect, distinct, **

**I hold my head up tall.**

**I leave all love and unloved behind me,**

**I say goodbye. **

**I keep my heart stable in my chest,**

**It shan't fail me now. **

**A healing wound deep within my breast,**

**It can't slow me down. **

**The world beyond my fathom moves,**

**Faster than I ever hoped. **

**It keeps me sane, sound.**

**I had hoped to return to the living course,**

**Individuals flippant in heart. **

**But I have chosen the stronger path… **

**I don't smell.**

**I don't breathe.**

**My heart doesn't beat. **

**I have nothing beneath my feet.**

**Time stops for me. **

**The world moves around me,**

**But I stand still. **

* * *

"This is serious," she snapped. "I need you to promise me that—"

"I still don't understand," Fiyero said. "Why must I stay some _place _all alone, on one of the most romantic times of the year, in a _bathtub_?" He put on a sullen face and sniffled emotively.

Elphie pulled on her skirts, to his great dismay, and then strapped on a boot. "I never said you had to be alone. I just said you had to be out of sight from crowds… public places."

Fiyero narrowed his eyes mischievously. "Oh, really? You're saying I could… hire someone?" Knowing she would—on normal circumstances—disapprove, he pestered her more. "Someone to… say…"

"Yes, Fiyero. You're still being unethical whether it's committing adultery with me or another," she said dryly. "It doesn't matter _who _you do it with, it only matters _if _you do it. And you most certainly _have_." She yawned, by accident, and tried to cover up the involuntary action with a luxurious stretch.

Fiyero pondered this for a moment, then took her other boot and hid it behind his back while she was occupied with working her muscles. "And, you're saying you wouldn't mind me being 'unethical' with another?"

Once done stretching, she slipped on gloves that tightly fit her hands and showed each sharp or soft curve of bone and tissue. "I'm only saying that I can't control who your lover… lovers are." Her cloak swooped onto her back lying across the thin, seemingly emaciated flesh of her shoulders. "I'm not your wife."

Elphaba's hair swooped down her back, cascading like a silken waterfall. Fiyero's eyes twitched. Then he stood up and combed it through his fingers. "Are you sure? Let's play house. I'll be the daddy, you'll be the mommy and Malky… she'll be the deranged cat from hell."

Elphaba's eyes flashed where Fiyero couldn't see them. "And who'll be the child?"

Fiyero, baffled, said, "Why would we need a child? We don't have one. We already have all of the parts filled out."

"Well, if we're going to play the mommy and the daddy," she reasoned, "We would need someone to be a mommy and daddy to, is all."

Fiyero nodded slowly.

"Just say out of sight until everything's settled," she said quickly, changing the subject. "Maybe that girl you hire could be the child…" she added on quietly, smiling.

"Can you possibly _fathom_ the magnitude of how repulsive that is?"

"I can only imagine," Elphie said. "Now, where's my boot?" And she began to grope around for her other walking boot. "Work waits… I need to be there by the time the sun is overhead…"

Fiyero nudged it a bit, so that it would be harder to locate. "What exactly are you doing 'at work' anyway? You're always so quiet about it…"

Elphie snorted. "And I'm going to stay quiet about it; it is nothing that you need worry yourself with." Then her beautiful hair vanished beneath a broadly-rimmed hat. "Understand?"

He rolled his eyes. "Could you simply tell me what sort of operation it is? Not the whole of it, just the main idea," Fiyero said. "Are you going to bomb something? Sabotage? Assassina—?"

At this, she gave the faintest traces of a flinch, and Fiyero knew he had found a sore spot, which meant that an assassination was tonight's operation. His excitement grew. "Who is it, Fae? Who are you going to get? Perhaps the Wizard?"

Elphaba shook her head. "I told you, I'm not letting anything fly…" She whacked him on the head with an umbrella, taking back her boot and slipping it on. "And that's what you get for trying to delay me."

Fiyero rubbed his head and was about to take her scarf, but refrained, deciding he had learned his lesson… unless he took the umbrella first…

A moment later, she glared at him and snatched her scarf away from his hungry gaze. "Down boy, sit, stay." And she patted his head fondly with a smirk plastered across her face. "Good boy." He growled suggestively.

Malky hissed.

Elphaba, with a happy smirk at Malky, whose tail was now fluffing up angrily, pulled something into her cloak. For a moment, she fiddled with it underneath the fabric, and then, finally satisfied with her preparations, she turned back to Fiyero and said, "Now, what do you say?"

Fiyero blinked a couple of times. "You look absolutely _divine_, my lady." Elphie didn't respond, she just kept staring at him.

"Dangerously sexy?" Nothing.

"Good enough to—" She hastily put a finger to his lips.

"You look—"

"Green," she finished lamely. "Green and primed… to my _best_ ability." And Fiyero nodded.

After much unwanted tomfoolery on Fiyero's part, Elphie left the apartment, unconditionally annoyed at the man, but—to which she had no idea—grinning from ear to ear. She was perplexed to as why she had so carelessly and absentmindedly provided Fiyero with the knowledge that she loved him, but ungratefully accepted her fate. She felt stupid, insecure, and almost apprehensive about what she was going to do; the operation which was immensely important to their future success. She needed to concentrate on the tactics and plans they had gone over, but her mind was set on if she had really meant what she had said to him. She couldn't focus on anything else.

Elphaba turned a sharp corner into a dark passageway, laden with sticky cobwebs that threatened to cling to her face. She nimbly avoided them, ducking and swerving like a lanky money, and steadily kept pace until surfacing in the middle of a bright square. It bustled lively with men, women, and children alike, all draped in winter garb. She also carefully avoided these too, politely ignoring anyone and everyone and undisturbed by the looks she was given; old habits die fast, and she would never fit it.

She pulled her scarf higher up her face and her hood lower. Trying to disguise herself as a beggar or other, she also slumped lower in posture, in addition getting rid of her rather arrogant expression she prided herself on. With a vaguely contented look instead, she slumped down the street, and settled herself right near the theatre's entrance, like someone who wished to enter, but had not the right kind of money to do so, so instead strained to listen outside. She was amongst five others, but stationed near the front of the group so she could easily do what had been planned.

For a while she waited in deathly silence, still engaged with something under her cape, but keeping her eyes innocently trained on a schoolyard across the way. People walked by without a second glance at her; she was blending in quite well and she felt mildly proud of herself. At least two years of dedication to rigid training had not gone to waste.

She also took to talking slightly with the other people crowded around the theatre, attempting to muster up any information she could. Apparently, it seemed that her target would make her appearance soon, very soon. It took much self-control for Elphaba to keep her eyes expressionless, or else she was sure they would portray blood lust.

Elphie's eyes widened of their own accord when finally in the midst of her target. She bent her spine forward more and reached into the depths of her robe while the flaccid skirts and body of Madame Morrible approached the theatre. The folds of her skin wobbling on her cheeks and chin gave Elphaba the shudders. She was reminded way too clearly of the days in Shiz, being harassed in secret by the Head. Being magicked into something she had no force over; something she could not control, even though she fought it. This woman had unceremoniously reigned over Crage Hall, in ways the girls never knew, and never would. Thinking about it these days still gave Elphaba headaches and a mildly upset stomach. She wanted to rid the world of this colossal whale-of-a-woman. This gave Elphie confidence in her actions-to-be and she was certain of her readiness. Her grip tightened on whatever she had concealed in her dark peninsula.

Madame Morrible—now halfway across from the theatre, suddenly stopped. Elphaba was confused and quickly wrenched her hand from under her cloak, trying for natural. She looked from side to side and saw a mob of children flood out around the large lady. They crawled underneath her sarong, busy in a game with each other and giggled at her when she smiled. Elphaba dipped her head in mental pain, shaking. Elphie—at one time—did reach back in to grab whatever she had hidden, but once again stopped. In good time, Morrible presumed walking toward the theatre, but now she had to evade the children in their play. Elphie only watched hopelessly. Soon, she was inside, safe from any harm, and Elphie's operation was classified as: failed.

Elphaba shook herself angrily, unable to conceal any fury she felt. She slammed her fist against the dirt, much to the surprise of her fellow poor peoples, and got up, decided to spare a nod to the rest of the group and stalked off.

She took deep and solemn breaths. She called herself weak in the depths of her own mind. She called herself many things, and wondered blatantly _why she didn't do it. _But it was clear as to _why_: who was she to commit an assassination in front of mere children? Damaging their little minds wouldn't do any good to Oz. She knew from experience that seeing death in its prime was a harsh and cruel blow to the mind and body itself. Elphie thought sadly of Doctor Dillamond and dipped her head once in respect, sighing.

Elphaba scanned the crowd, angrily, hoping, if by any chance, to see someone who looked disappointed, angry, or irritated greatly. But instead, she saw one person she had hoped with all her heart she would not see. She was stopped in her tracks and took another mind-boggling blow to her heart.

Elphaba was inundated with misery, and, upon seeing suspicious figures round the corner quietly, she knew she was immediately pushed into danger and more, as was Fiyero.

Elphaba tried not to look too hasty while fleeing from the crowd. She pushed her way carefully in the direction of Fiyero and grabbed him by the sleeve, taking them both down the ally from which she had emerged originally. She took care not to look behind her back, so as to not give the impression she was afraid of being followed.

She pinned him against the wall, ignoring the gentle gaze, full of affection he aimed at her. "_What_ are you doing here?" she asked, absolutely furious. "I thought I had made it _perfectly clear_ that you were to stay secluded, somewhere _safe_. This definitely does not classify as '_safe_', Fiyero!"

"_Well_," he scoffed. "You didn't exactly specify _where_ I had to be. I figure I'm safe in a crowd... you know, with other people."

"I need you to stay _still _for one moment, all right?"

Fiyero nodded, and Elphaba quickly looked around.

"What ever happened to the bathtub!?" she asked urgently, taking him off the wall finally and suddenly dragging him away.

He shrugged. "We could easily bring one out here. Doing dirty in public pays good money, my dear." Elphaba rolled her eyes and urged him on.


	2. Serenity

They skidded quickly down the streets and arrived just in time to see Malky fly out of Elphie's apartment window and land inches from the corn exchange. Elphaba ran forward, and grabbed the frightened cat, studying her. The fluffy feline was cut across one leg and splattered with something sour. She was shivering awfully, but surprisingly fine.

From inside the small apartment, all three of them could hear the sounds of crashing, and Elphaba knew she was instantly without a home. Sighing, she grabbed Fiyero's arm quickly—still cradling Malky—and took them both into the very depths of the corn exchange itself. Fiyero didn't complain; it was better than nothing, and why would the Gale Force search in the abandoned corn exchange? Nobody in their right mind would hide in that place. The only thing to inhabit that dump was the scarecrow, and even he didn't look too happy to be there.

They all settled in a small nest of dry stalks and lapsed into silence. The aroma of wind-blown wheat drifted through the still air and encouraged their silence like a soft but beautiful perfume. It stayed quiet, just like that, all night.

Elphaba was miserable in all of the hours of darkness and simply watched stars and thought. Fiyero had a good reason to think she got almost no hours of sleep. Malky was irritable the whole night, and went into an unprecedented schedule of washing herself far too often. She would clean her fur thoroughly and then clean again after stopping for half an hour, as if she kept deciding she still wasn't clean enough. Fiyero—on the other hand—was starving the whole night, but said nothing, not wanting to be the one to break the ice. Night stretched on… owls hooted… wolves howled in yonder forest… the moon finally fell… and the sun rose.

He stretched the next morning and his stomach grumbled ominously, sending him distinct male instincts to _eat something_. He groaned. Beside him, Elphie didn't budge from her slumber. He cleared his throat and looked at her face. She looked so calm, serene… settled, unlike she was when awake, so he let her be and went in search of food himself.

After brief hesitation, he took Malky with him for safe keeping, as she was already up and attempting a hunt. He pitied the cat, no matter how indifferently she thought of him and carried her tenderly in his arms, avoiding her tail at any chance. She still smelt of sour milk and he was lucky he didn't have an easily upset stomach. He was quite _unlucky_ that Malky's stench didn't curb his hunger.

Walking down the sidewalk, scanning for any sign of a food stand,_ something_, Malky decided to get comfortable in his strong arms and flexed her claws in and out. She did so with a satisfied smirk on her face. Fiyero wondered if this cat had it in for him and winced.

He soon found himself in the lower part of town, also known as Bargain Metropolis by the locals. It was a shady area, coated with layers of dirt and grime, on the walls of the buildings and even on the people. Fiyero felt oddly conspicuous, like he was the center of everyone's world and they were all staring at him, when, in reality, no one was. In his bright and fairly expensive attire, he wouldn't be surprised if someone decided to mob him suddenly without warning, but no one did, so he felt stupid and relaxed finally.

An old woman approached him. "Such a beautiful cat you have there… she would be worth something, she would. What do you say?"

Between Malky's claws and stench, Fiyero had a hard time thinking clearly and sensibly about her proposal. This woman knew not how much he wished for the cat to get out of his hair, but couldn't. This was—after all—Elphie's cat, and it wasn't his decision to give Malky away. "I'm sorry," he apologized to the woman… and his future self, "This isn't my cat, so I don't have an obligation to decide whether to keep her or not. I'm just watching her."

The old lady nodded to him slowly and walked away, but she was not the only one to question him about the cat. He gripped Malky tightly at each new buyer and declined each time, almost flinching at the raising selling price. He looked down at Malky after the seventh customer. "You sure are a popular one, aren't you?" Malky gave him a smug look and he ruffled up the fur at the top of her head. She spat and Fiyero was satisfied.

He bought a cotton bag, assuming that they wouldn't risk going back into Elphaba's apartment. They needed something to carry the food in. He was happy about how smartly he was thinking and handling their situation. Think outside the box. Check.

He stopped at a fruit stand next and dropped Malky from his arms for a minute. Malky landed in a puddle and hissed, but he ignored her and pulled out his wallet. "How much for… six peaches?"

The woman at the counter gave him a sour look, but said, "Seven pence, Mister, but I wouldn't guarantee that these are worth buying." Her eyes turned soft. "Growing hasn't been going good for the last few months. I would suggest you stock up on the good bread and apples instead."

Fiyero was immediately alerted and wary of the stranger, with her scarf covering most of her face. "Well, I don't like apples," Fiyero informed her. "And the only two fruits I see here, around these parts, are peaches and apples… so I pick peaches."

She leaned closer, pulling up a peach and showing him. "See that? That there's blue mold… it can cause problems to the mind and body if consumed, it can. With apples, you see, you can cut off the mold, but peaches… no, they are too soft, they are."

"But, you don't have apples."

"You need buy the apples from another." She shrugged as if it was obvious and he was stupid.

Fiyero looked into her eyes for a moment, but then simply walked away. The peach didn't look that appetizing to begin with, even if the old hag _was _cheating him of some food. But, afresh, why would she do that… if it meant more money? If it meant she was seven pence richer? Why would she direct him to buy from another seller? It made no sense.

He went to the fruit stand next to her and bought peaches from _that_ lady. He figured that he could just cut off the mold from peaches as well as apples, no matter what the last lady had said. The seller in front of him said nothing; she didn't warn him of mold, of harm, she just gave him his peaches. He paid and gave the lady at the last stand a smirk. She shook her head sadly.

He finally deduced … that people around these parts… were positively nutty.

* * *

Elphaba awoke cold and alone. Looking around, she could have thrown a fit, and would have if she wasn't _in hiding_. Yes, in hiding: something Fiyero obviously couldn't get through his thick skull. She suddenly felt rather sick.

She stood up and examined any scratches she had received from the desiccated stalks—which was an admittedly large amount. They stung and Elphie was at an almost impulse to sneak up to her loft and grab her precious oil. It would sure put her at ease and she could actually keep herself clean…

So, putting the ill feeling behind her back, Elphaba decided boldly to inspect her apartment. It wouldn't be the only _stupid_ thing done this morning, she thought bitterly.

She crept quietly up the stairwell and listened at the door for a moment, before sliding in.

Elphaba sadly looked around her little home, and picked up the scarf Fiyero had bought for her… It was slightly scuffed, but still beautiful… Red roses on a black background…

She tied it in the laces of her bodice.

Afterward, she picked her way over the crushed elephant skull, seeing how the pink blossoms once blooming from its top were crushed along with it. One tusk lay cracked into a sharp point and without a second thought she picked it up by the dull end, swinging it back and forth like a weapon. Satisfied, she attached it to her belt, looping a leather string hanging from it through a crooked and newly made hole in the bone.

She then, at last caught sight of a little bottle on the floor, but it was redundant, as it was practically empty, had been poured out onto the floor, and into the crevices of the wood. She decided this had been its fate after practically killing herself on a slick, wet patch inches from the bottle, and thought it was a pretty good analysis herself. Elphie reflected distractedly about how it had probably soaked into the person's home below her, perhaps even seeping onto their very head. She dropped it and it fell, also ending up shattering onto the ground, mixing with the bone bits and petals.

Perchance, she thought, racking her brain, the Gale Force didn't look…

Elphie opened up the little wooden box at the far end of the room and smiled; no, they hadn't, or they didn't bother with them. She took along the box, as it had near five full bottles of oil, perfectly usable, and exactly what she needed.

She placed the little box in their hideout and then set out to find her idiot. Maybe she could stop him from committing a thick-headed act that could get them killed. She felt it as an obligation on her part.

* * *

Fiyero finally got to thinking about what they were going to do next. Were they going to leave the Emerald City? Where would they go from there? And, most importantly, how would they get there? He started to worry. Hopefully, they would figure something out in good time…

Bearing all of this in mind, he also bought three loaves of bread, five chucks of cheese, a flask for water, and a simple bar of soap. Fiyero thought whether they would need anything else and decided that this wouldn't be the only market they confronted.

He slung the bag over his shoulder.

It got busy tremendously quickly. People suddenly appeared from _nowhere _and flooded around Fiyero. He was forced to vacate the street and push himself against a random wall, much to his great disgust. The dirt on the wall crumbled from impact, and littered his shoulders.

It also got much _louder _from the many new people. At this, Fiyero wondered stupidly why all the fuss, but a feeling in the pit of his stomach warned him to be cautious; it might not be good. Next to him, another smart person was avoiding the crowds. He turned to her.

"What is going on around here?" Fiyero asked, raising his eyebrows in confusion.

"Don't you know?" Her accent was rough and curled around her tongue. She looked upon him as if surprised that he didn't know; possibly thinking that it was impossible that _anyone_ couldn't know. "It's her! It's Lady Glinda! She's coming down here today! Very, very, soon now!"

"Glinda…" Fiyero said. "_Glinda_? Glinda the Good Witch of the North?" He was almost taken away from the surprise of the words, adding on to the impact from all of the pushing and shoving.

She looked scared for his safety for a moment, saying, "Just stand _still _and you won't be pushed away." Then, seeing that he was rightly positioned, went back to answering his last statement: "Is there any _other_…?" she replied, sarcasm dripping off of her words. "Why would you ever ask such an obvious question?"

Fiyero smiled at the woman, despite her harshness, (living with Elphie allowed him to get used such sarcasm) his excitement rising. It was Glinda! Glinda… Glinda… his mind set to work suddenly and he believed… he was thinking of a plan. He continued smiling; he was so proud of himself.


	3. Wistfulness

It's alive!

* * *

Elphaba slipped carefully through the streets in a desperate attempt to find Fiyero. She expertly ignored the usual staring, concentrating only on the pavement before her, and her search for dark skin and blue diamonds.

There was a notable change in the thickness of the crowd as she progressed, but didn't let it faze her. At the least the amount of people meant that there was a parade passing through—at worst there was a strike or a robbery being attended to. Regardless of the reason of the heavy crowd, Elphaba had to find Fiyero before he gave himself more trouble than he could handle. She found in experience that he couldn't quite take care of himself, and wasn't going to let him start now.

After some more shifting through the thick mass of people, it became clear why everyone had decided to collect there, and it hit her quite suddenly. Elphaba cursed loudly just as another surge of people made her back away off the street. She clutched her oils to her chest and looked over on her left side to see Fiyero. He was smiling quite awkwardly, as he had just noticed her, too, but Elphaba was sure her own expression wasn't so hopeful.

"You really are quite the genius, Fiyero," Elphaba yelled at him through the noise of the crowd.

"Thank you," he responded back, just as loud, but stiff with annoyance, "that gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. I love you, Elphie!"

When Elphaba saw her chance, she clutched Fiyero's shirt and quickly zigzagged down a narrow passage between the crowd and the old wall they'd pressed up against. When they were finally out of the throng, they took a hiding spot behind a grey dumpster to peek at the object of the crowd's attention.

"We can't go out in the open," Elphaba said breathlessly, "there's a good chance she'll see us. Then we'll have to go to her house for tea, and all that rubbish. . . ."

"Why would that be so bad?" Fiyero asked. "I think we should see Galin-Glinda. Maybe if you pose as Sarima I could introduce you as my wife. . . ."

"Oh yes, that's witty of you, Fiyero," Elphaba sneered. "Now let me steal Sarima's identity _along_ with her husband."

"Oh come on," he sighed, "I know you miss her; we both do. It'll be reassuring to see her again, won't it?"

"It will be the opposite of reassuring. The thought makes me feel sick."

Fiyero rammed his fish against the dumpster and slid down to the ground.

Elphaba settled beside him and softened a bit. "Sorry, Fiyero, but we just can't. . . . Her palace is full of guards who would be happy to kill me." She attempted a weak smile, but her lips were too dry for that. She bent down and mopped her forehead with her skirt.

"I suppose you're right," he said slowly, "but I just wish—"

"Well all wish, love. I wish, too, but I can't let trivial wishes get in the way of what's important; life. Besides," she said, cuddling up to him and wrapping her arms comfortingly around his waist, "wishing only wounds hearts. Don't wish, Fiyero."


End file.
